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WUTHERING HEIGHTS.
173
"Who can help it? of course I do," she answered.
Then I put her through the following catechism—for a girl of twenty-two it was not injudicious.
"Why do you love him, Miss Cathy?"
"Nonsense, I do—that's sufficient."
"By no means; you must say why?"
"Well, because he is handsome, and pleasant to be with."
"Bad," was my commentary.
"And because he is young and cheerful."
"Bad, still."
"And, because he loves me."
"Indifferent, coming there."
"And he will be rich, and I shall like to be the greatest woman of the neighbourhood, and I shall be proud of having such a husband."
"Worst of all! And, now, say how you love him?"
"As every body loves—You're silly, Nelly."
"Not at all—Answer."
